


Red Moon ~ Black Moon

by The_Exile



Series: Red Rings of Saturn [2]
Category: Dragon Force (Video Game)
Genre: Deities, Dragons, F/M, Harlequin Big Bang, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Post-Game(s), Romance, Spoilers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: Tradnor is victorious and Reinhart now rules Legendra. Madruk is no longer a threat but a new God is about to be born. Torn between his many natures - human and dragon, God of War and boy learning about love, his many divine duties and mundane duties - Reinhart's soul is in turmoil with apocalyptic consequences if he is fully consumed by chaos. With the help of the famous Immortal lovers Sierra and Vlad, Uryll sets out to save her Emperor and secret admirer from his fate.





	1. Chapter 1

Fiend Tower was now a very different place from the abandoned, zombie-infested, crumbling ruin it had been before the war. The castle's keepers had returned - both of them - and had begun renovating it properly as just one of many gestures to show that they were ready to open up their world to the outside. They had taken down the barricades, opened the windows, swept out all the cobwebs. Instead of sinister howling and screeching, the sound of hammers and saws could mostly be heard from the tower. There was still eerie organ music but that was because the owners happened to like eerie organ music and played it to impress guests, which there were a lot more of now. Although there were a lot less zombies lurching around - the supply was running dry with the departure of Madruk and the dark magic that emanated from the God of Destruction - there was an increasingly large population of full, sentient Immortals, all of them having flocked to the province that was now seen as a haven for their people, proud and strong but still very few in number and not received well by fearful, superstitious mortals. Inspired by the return of Count Vlad and his bride Sierra who was rescued in a campaign that sounded more like a wonderfully romantic tale, many of them had even joined in the restoration efforts, by summoning Golems and elemental spirits to physically assist with construction or by spreading the news that the Immortal Kingdom - as they had dubbed it without the consent of its leader - was trying to rise again. 

There were the occasional Madruk loyalists who wanted to pervert the aim of the Immortal Kingdom into something much darker than Vlad had intended it, more of a crusade to subjugate the mortal races under their clearly superior masters. These were actively hunted down and quelled by those actually under Vlad's direct employ - mostly Santana - an operation that generally went smoothly, as the powers of Madruk's remaining servants were slowly waning away to nothing with the God's defeat, the strongest and most closely linked to Madruk having already been destroyed along with him. 

Mostly there were much larger problems to deal with, such as having the Immortal Kingdom recognised by the outside world and not accidentally mistaken for said Madruk remnants. This was helped by the support of Emperor Reinhart of Tradnor, who, after his victorious unification of the Continent of Legendra and subsequent leading everyone successfully into battle with Madruk, had mostly taken a hands-off approach to rulership. There were a few absolute laws with strict punishments, most of them pertaining to the worship of Madruk or any attempts to cause another continent-wide war. Other than that, the individual provinces had been given to their previous rulers to govern as tribute nations to Tradnor. Another thing that was almost immediately banned was discrimination against any intelligent species, specifically including Immortals. Dragons were another race that Reinhart wanted to promote peaceful coexistence with, to the extent that Gigg had stayed on as General of the Imperial Guard. Uryll was also employed directly by Reinhart as a court magician and scholar, as well as a less obvious bodyguard. She also functioned as an adviser on matters where a lifespan of multiple millennia was useful, as well as somewhat of a diplomat to the Immortals. 

It wasn't what she really wanted in life, though. Any excuse to stay close to Reinhart was good but she could no longer hide her dissatisfaction. It had begun to show in subtle ways, lapses in concentration, slight drops in work quality, small mistakes that might end up being dangerous if the next one happened to be, say, in the high energy magic laboratory. Sophie, who was technically Uryll's direct superior as Archmage of Tradnor, had begun to notice and comment. She'd suggested the Succubus take some time off. 

"I know you don't really need to eat or sleep but you still have a mind that works like ours and therefore needs a rest. You've had to process a lot of information in your new role and I can tell you're not really used to it like we are. Maybe you need time off just to organise everything that's happened in your mind."

Uryll had nodded and muttered something about needing to think things over. Sophie couldn't possibly know the depths of the real situation, she decided, and it was probably for the better, considering how close she was to the Emperor. She'd accepted the time off - with reassurance that she would still have a job to go back to - and had returned to Fiend Tower. She knew there was only one person she could really trust to advise her properly. Not only because Sierra was an Immortal like herself, could understand the subtle differences in how the world looked to you when you were old enough to see entire human civilisations rise and fall (although, to tell the truth, Uryll was only around seven hundred years old, considered barely an adult by Immortal standards, whereas Sierra was one of the older and therefore more powerful of their race), the Eternal Night Queen (again, not her own choice of title) had a lot more experience of a matter that Uryll needed urgent help with.

Uryll was well aware that a lot of rumours about Vlad and Sierra, both flattering and defamatory, were complete fabrications. However, she also knew that the tales of their intense, undying love for each other, like a dark flame that would never diminish in the slightest even though it seemed too bright not to burn itself out, were all true. The two had only grown more fond of each other over the years and their spirit-bond was so strong that they could literally restore each other's souls through it. The entire reason that Vlad had hidden away for so long, refusing to take part in either side of the war except to slay anyone who tried to pressurise him too stubbornly, was because his Sierra had been taken hostage, mind-slaved by another through dark magic and trickery involving a curse hidden on a powerful artifact. He'd only been able to break the terrible geas by secretly scouting for one powerful enough to defeat him but benevolent enough to spare his life and agree to work with him in exchange for service. That 'someone' had been the boy-Emperor Reinhart, in whose veins ran the blood of a Dragon-God of War. Once the choice was out of his hands, the exact wording of the curse could not track what he had done, and besides, Reinhart had magic enough to break such a curse in short order, and Vlad's enemies were suddenly a lot more concerned with Tradnor marching on them, now fully aware of their presence, than a protracted Feud with Vlad. Reinhart and Vlad had fought side by side to rescue Sierra from Ryskim's clutches, then the two Immortals vowed to never part again, not even for a moment. 

In reality, Reinhart had soon worked out that the two lovers' renewed spirit-bond enabled long range psychic communication that became the focal point for many missions requiring them to be at opposite ends of Legendra. However, they were always at the forefront of each other's minds and should either be in trouble, the other would be there in a flash, orders or no. Reinhart didn't mind this, as it had been part of their original understanding. 

"Everything I do," Vlad had told him, defiance in his eyes, "Will be for Sierra. I only even care about saving this world because I want it to be a place for Sierra to live happily in."

Uryll had become increasingly aware that, despite everything that had happened, despite their differences and the dangers that had come from them being too close once before, despite how terribly it might be misinterpreted and the gnawing possibility that some part of it might not be under their control, not even by their own wills, she was still in love with Reinhart. Possibly just as much in love as Sierra and Vlad were with each other.


	2. Chapter 2

"I fail to see the problem," Sierra yawned, lounging back gracefully on the red velvet cushions of the antique armchair. She wound long, delicate fingers through wavy golden hair. Uryll could see why so many Immortals, and a fair few secret admirers among mortals, found her mannerisms so alluring. At rest, she seemed almost ephemeral, but Uryll could sense the power emanating from her, dark but controlled, and see the toned lines of her arms, not covered by a sleeveless black dress. Like Uryll, Sierra had trained as a Succubus, along with a few other useful skills, such as necromancy and summoning, that were deemed necessary for an Immortal lady to protect herself once the war started. Their paths branched significantly these days and had little to do with things as straightforward as battle. Sierra had a fledgling Kingdom to run, Uryll was working on a bunch of safeguards to make sure Madruk couldn't be resurrected.

"Well... he looks so young, and I, you know..." Uryll hid her face behind her soft lilac hair. 

"You were commanded by an authority that was practically our God, whether we liked it or no, who could annihilate you on a whim, to seduce him, but you still managed to resist Madruk's will enough to restrain yourself where it mattered. I do not think Reinhart would begrudge you this."

"But will he know for sure that it's genuine this time? Even with Madruk gone, I am still... what I am," she sighed.

"Reinhart is one of Legendra's foremost mages and a divine scion, Uryll, he's intelligent enough to know that Succubi aren't always on duty," she said. There was a nasty rumour going around that Succubi were like some sort of addicts, driven by their need for certain forms of life energy to forcibly drain mortals to death. As if such intense passion couldn't manifest elsewhere, and in other species, for that matter. Astea knows, Uryll could feed for days off being near Gigg when he had a large steak and a tankard of ale, or Sophie when she'd been in the library all day.

"He might be young and naive but I'm sure he also knows the difference between love and seduction. It was Reinhart who called you out on that day, if I remember."

Uryll's cheeks blushed a sort of deep, bruised violet. Sierra might look like just an unusually pale lady but not all races of Immortal were as good at passing for human, and Uryll tended to look like a well preserved but definitely dead Elf, unless she took pains not to.

"He's really not that young, either - or at least, not less mature than you. Not just in the way I've noticed that a human grows up very quickly in the rush to compensate for their short lifespan. Reinhart's divine blood flows strong within him, Uryll. He's practically half dragon. He might look like a child but he's probably going to live as long as you, if not significantly longer."

"That's not quite the point," Uryll sighed, "Its always going to look wrong to everyone else in Legendra. Not everyone even knows about Reinhart's ancestry, and everyone knows what I am. They'll just see a Succubus tempting an adolescent boy. And I... to be honest, I'm not entirely sure myself that these feelings are genuine, and not just something left over from Madruk's orders. He didn't just command, you know, he plants ideas in your mind, to make sure you can perform your role perfectly..."

"I know how Madruk operates, dear, I worked for him a long time ago. In fact, I think I would have been drawn back in had He not mistakenly thought I was still under Ryskim's control," she sighed, "To me, the look in your eyes, the warmth in your soul, it's obviously true love. Mental conditioning looks very different, and I've seen a lot of both."

"I... I'm glad to have that from someone who knows what they're doing."

"Honestly, I don't. I can't tell you how to pursue your own passion. I only know my own, and everyone's is unique," she warned, "I think I know what can be done about at least one of these problems, though. That is, if Reinhart consents."

"Yes, I do realise he has to want all of this himself," she sighed. It was another factor she really didn't know one way or the other, and the one she had the least control over.

Not ever knowing, not even giving it a try, was worse, though.

"I don't just mean consenting to the relationship. I mean that his form can be changed. Whatever's making him stay so young, the effect can be broken," she said, "After all, what exactly he will manifest as, is always in flux. he's still young, still deciding whether he wants to live as a deity or a mortal or somewhere in between... not forgetting that Valhart himself is a dragon. Like all of the dragons, he can shift into other forms. Reinhart probably works differently, being half human - it might even be why he has been unable to age for so long."

"But there's always a chance that he wants to stay young anyway," said Uryll.

"Exactly. We've seen how he takes advantage of his guileless charm constantly. He puts people off guard, thinking that he's actually naive and inexperienced, or weak in battle. He can't get people to take him seriously enough to lead from the front but it also means nobody is quite aware of how much he's been controlling everything behind the scenes," Sierra frowned, "Of course, that's going to be more difficult now that he's the actual Emperor of Legendra, and the Beastmen have always thought he's some sort of demonic witch-child anyway. Whatever ends up happening with... this matter, we're always going to watch over him anyway, as his closest allies."

Uryll nodded, "I won't... let passion get in the way of politics."

"Oh, passion belongs in politics, its the only thing motivating us sometimes, and especially the only thing forcing us to see the truth and maybe even tell it sometimes," she smiled, "You know, there's equally a chance he doesn't want to stay young all the time, if the appearance is only a tool to him. If he realises he can learn to control his powers better, he might be interested in obtaining other tools. After all, if he's adored as a child, think of what's going to happen if he suddenly manifests as a full deity."

"I think poor old Saharzad would have a heart attack, that's what."

"There's also the matter of him actually knowing who he is, for himself. He's going to have to learn to see all aspects of his lineage - the human, the God, the mage and the dragon - or he's not truly himself, not truly in control. That could end badly, with a being as powerful in potential as he is."

"Do you worry that he will truly lose control?"

"It's... always something to bear in mind, with a new deity. Not that even we are normally old enough to see multiple generations of deities. But Madruk was like Valhart once, you know, before he lost his way somehow," she sighed, "For all our sakes as well as your own, I hope that you have a chance to be that boy's grounding factor. The way he carries on sometimes, strutting about, building a whole Empire, I think he desperately needs one."

"I'll do what I can, but ultimately, as you say, this is for myself, and for him."

"Good. It doesn't work if its not sincere. Now, we should adjourn to the library. Quite a lot of these old tomes have some information on draconic shapeshifting."


	3. Chapter 3

Taking some more advice given to her by the Immortal matriarch, she hadn't blindly gone straight in. She'd discussed it first with the one person she really trusted in such sensitive matters, a reliable friend who would happily stay impartial and keep her secrets throughout all of this. Most importantly, someone who actually knew anything at all about dragons. 

"Greater dragons are a breed apart from we lesser dragons, though," admitted Gigg, wiping his ale-soaked snout on his leather bracer, "They aren't just bigger with longer lives. Once they become genuinely divine, they don't even live in the same world as us most of the time."

"I don't need to know everything about them. I just need to know if what I'm attempting is actually at all possible, or safe, for that matter."

"Again, I don't know how it would work. We lesser dragons don't mate with other species, we don't have to worry abut half-breeds. We don't turn into anything else, either," he shrugged, "Safe, though... there's something I have to warn you about. Mostly it relates to us lesser dragons. I don't know if it applies to the greaters. However, if you've already specifically been warned about the possibility of him becoming the next Madruk..."

"You think that could really happen?" Uryll frowned, "It really doesn't seem like his style."

"From what I've been told, Madruk never started out truly evil, only destructive, chaotic and ambitious. Reinhart's always struck me as ambitious - arrogant, too. He's definitely got a darkness to him. Why do you think we were sent to tempt him specifically in the first place?" Gigg whispered, "Nobody else got sent a plant from Madruk except Goldark, and he's always been Madruk's favourite person to try and turn. Now, I'm not calling him evil right now - he's one of the most just and fair rulers I know. But his father has never exactly been the nicest of deities and he's most likely to inherit his bad side along with the good. That said, he's the most duty-bound and rules-obsessed, except for the small matter of him having a mortal sire."

"There's something else, though, isn't there? I've known you ever since we were children by mortal standards. You've never really cared about a ruler being a little warlike or tyrannical."

"True. And you guessed it, I've been having... diplomatic trouble back home. The Blood Dragons are on the move again."

Uryll gulped. She'd fought Blood Dragons. She'd had to defend Tradnor Keep from an ambush by three platoons of elite Blood Dragons while Reinhart went to Ruinledge to fight Madruk. That was one of the few times she'd lost friends. They had all the tactical sense of drunken beastmen but they made up for it in size, power, ferocity, numbers and the sheer primal terror they inspired.

"I thought the death of Madruk would..."

"Its been a spiritual shock to them but they were never directly spiritually connected to Madruk, like a lot of yours were. They just chose to fight for him, because they're highly unpleasant people, they're easily impressed by power and anyway, its been their tradition for longer than humans have been around," explained Gigg, "Without Madruk, they'll only be slightly less powerful. And it isn't beyond their reach to get hold of another Dragon God with the same goals in life as them."

"Do you think that Reinhart...?"

"We don't know how becoming a full deity will change him. We don't even know if it will work properly, without something bad happening. There haven't been half-human deities before. A few elves but they're different," Gigg pointed out, "And Reinhart always did like his dragons. Not that I'm complaining - I really do think we can live side by side one day - but I can't ignore that my bloodthirsty cousins exist and that they're plotting something."

"Have you warned anyone?"

"And cause mass panic? No, I was going to take a few people I can trust, tell Reinhart its a border inspection, keep my eye on them for a while. Maybe borrow Santana. Actually, I was hoping to borrow you, but what you're doing also sounds very important for Legendra's future."

"You think so?"

"If anything's going to keep him sane and grounded in this world, its going to be contact with another person that he actually cares about," said Gigg, "It's not quite the same, of course, but I like to think I've gotten this far because of all the good friends I've made."

"I... thank you," she blushed, "And thank you for the advice."

"No problem," the dragon grinned, showing off many sharp, pointed teeth in a blue and white reptilian maw, "You know, if I was interested at all, never mind in non-dragons, you'd definitely be first choice. Reinhart's a lucky man."

Uryll was about to remind him once again that Reinhart was hardly a 'man' and anyway, he hadn't actually expressed true interest in her and she was still rather worried it was to do with forces other than luck, but she instead blushed at his rather disarming grin, then she hurried out of the chamber that she hoped was actually as private from magical surveillance as it was reputed to be.

* * *

"Then be your own God," said Uryll, rather more firmly than she'd meant to. Her heart was hammering inside her chest like a whole flock of wyverns trying to rend and scream their way out. Had she been capable of naturally dying, had her internal organs not mostly just been there so that her body could work in the same relatively simple, comfortable, self-managing way that mortal bodies did, she would be in serious trouble.

Also rather taken aback by her unexpected confidence - this was a Succubus who couldn't seduce him with a straight face - he raised an eyebrow at her, his youthful face that didn't hide dark, deep eyes that held secrets beyond what a real child would have existed long enough to learn, now even more worried than he'd seemed before - and something had definitely been preying on his mind. He'd already told her quite a good deal of it.

Family matters could get rather complicated and delicate when your father was a God of War, especially when you didn't want to be.

"If you're going to be a God, why would you have to be the one that someone else wants you to? Does the process even have to involve him?" asked Uryll.

"I wouldn't be able to Ascend normally. Not with my human blood. He'd have to directly transfer his divinity into me. I'd end up the exact same type of God."

"Would you, though? You're still a different person."

"Astea would expect me to take on the same role. Perform the same duties."

"You'd still have a choice on how to act in your role. Or how else do yo think Madruk..."

"Comparing me to Madruk after he's been defeated isn't the best way to get me to go against divine law, Uryll," he sighed.

"No, but it explains why I don't want you to just take for granted that its going to work the exact way your father thinks - or that the divine side of you will just go away if you do decide to reject it."

"So you want me to undergo some kind of ritual you dug out of some obscure tomes that you only have the word of some non-dragons and a different species of dragon won't kill me instead?"

"You'll be controlling it. And we'll all be working together. And, most importantly, you'll actually want to do it," she said, "Or are you seriously telling me you're okay walking away from actual divine power?" 

"I can get to Godlike levels of magic on my own," he folded his arms.

"And yet you're not worried that attitude will end you up on the same path as Madruk."

"No more than your plan will."

"Reinhart, we're all just worried about you. We don't want you to face this alone..."

"Do you have any understanding of this whatsoever? No. Didn't think so," he sighed, "Look, I'm sorry that I keep snapping. I'm still not good at this 'talking to people as though they're people' thing, and having to deal with stubborn Gods isn't helping my mood, not to mention stubborn family members. That's probably worse," he laughed for approximately a second, then grew serious again, "Seriously, though, if there's one thing Valhart would never let me do, its become the next Madruk. If nothing else, I'm willing to give in just for that."

"Because a reluctant God has no motivation to fall whatsoever," she sighed. Then she shook her head. As usual, he was missing the point entirely. Absolutely nothing of their exchange had even remotely suggested they had feelings for each other, or had even contemplated such things. 

Maybe I am just a particularly useful advisor to him, she thought bitterly. Just a strategically placed piece on the chess board he sees the world as sometimes. Although he definitely wasn't a God of War. No.

Still, if you do become the next Madruk, she thought, I reserve the right to personally take you down.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana was the first to spot the roaring blood-red tide that poured over the side of Mount Ruinledge. He'd been looking out for signs of a cult that lived in the mountain caves and had made several attempts at rites to revive Madruk. Instead, the place had been oddly deserted. He'd assumed the volcano was about to erupt again, so he'd darted back to warn the regent of the nearby Bloodly Castle. Then he realised that rumbling lava didn't quite make that noise, its flaming death didn't glint in that fashion, like a sea of metallic scales, or flow like a determined swarm of locusts, breathing out jets of fire here and there.

This was a horde of Blood Dragons. An unusually large gathering of them. Even when they had raided under Madruk's command, they'd appeared in squads of three, too vicious to co-operate among themselves for long. These invaders were acting with that same odd determination, as though similarly possessed. Santana began flying even faster, sending out more urgent messages to the outlying Fandarian provinces to evacuate. 

Reinhart had sent out response teams with similar expedience. Just in case it was an exact recurrence of the incident near the end of the war with Madruk, he sent a few companies to each of the Shrines of Astea, once neglected and monster-infested but now cleaned up and repopulated with Leon's monks. Mostly he sent samurai from Izumo, whose unusual techniques in battle the dragons still didn't seem to know how to counter. To Ruinledge itself he sent Mikhal, leader of the Samurai, along with Gigg and Uryll, who were the closest thing he had to ambassadors to Dragonkind, just in case it was still possible to negotiate. He also led this squad in person; if this did turn out to be as major a battle as he suspected, then Legendra would need a powerful magician to guard its lands.

Upon reaching the borders of Fandaria, it soon became apparent that there would be no negotiation. The draconic hordes were already destroying and burning everything in their path, pursuing anyone they came across with an intent to slaughter them indiscriminately. Gigg soon reported that they were about as rational and in control as they looked, howling like beasts and spraying the desert scrubland of Fandaria with jets of fire from slavering maws.

"They're not even properly under someone else's control. Its like they have a spiritual presence guiding them again but the connection isn't quite working," explained Gigg, "I mean, they'll be disorganised like this, so that'll work in our favour, but they'll be very dangerous."

"What could be guiding them with the death of Madruk?" asked Reinhart. 

"A particularly powerful Dragon or Immortal, maybe? I can't say we've found anyone like that but then they'd probably be able to stay hidden from..."

Reinhart winced in pain again, clutching his head. He'd dispelled all the illusory battle maps he'd conjured in the air in front of them, their precise lines twisting into a snarl, the dots representing units disappearing in an alarmingly ominous flash of light. He growled and turned the lingering magical energy into a wreath of angry red flames. Gigg looked at him sharply. 

"Your Highness, is everything okay? That's the third time..."

"I am fine," he snapped, "I am simply exhausted from some... unexpected diplomatic visits."

"Family again?" Uryll mouthed the words. He nodded in response, indicating with a frantic gesture that he did not wish to discuss it in front of everyone. 

"Your Highness, rather than trying to conduct such a battle when exhausted and distracted, I suggest withdrawing and leaving it to your very capable second-in-command..."

The ring of flames above Reinhart's head flared sharply and he snarled at Presto, the well-dressed mage who had suggested leaving the command up to him. 

"I can lead from the front just fine, thank you. I have a lot of aggression I need to work out right now," he insisted, then under his breath, "What kind of a Scion of War would I be, if I couldn't perform this one task?"

"Reinhart..." whispered Uryll.

"Your Highness, at least have some coffee," offered Gigg. Reinhart waved his staff and telekinetically moved the silver pot and a cup towards his waiting hands. He downed the first cup, then he was floating too and his eyes started to glow.

"Gigg, did you give him coffee again? He's biologically about ten!" scolded Presto, "Wait, is that Dragon's coffee? Can humans even drink that?"

Gigg shrugged, "He's not really human, and we need him alert."

"We need him sane too!"

"He's Reinhart," Gigg pointed out.

"We need him relatively..."

That was when a wave of pure magical force like a Sonic Burst going off in all directions knocked everyone off their feet. Had it been intended to kill, they'd all be dead, but it was wild, completely undirected. Presto flung up a shield, directing his unit of one hundred mages to do the same thing in synch. 

"ASTEA NO..." Gigg screeched, then the growling that came from his throat was suddenly disturbingly close to that of the blood dragons who were suddenly, quite rapidly upon them. The full pandemonium of battle had begun.

* * *

The one mercy was that the shrines hadn't been attacked. All of the dragons had poured in directly from the western mountains and then made a beeline for Reinhart - ostensibly in a rush to attack the most powerful who was most obviously in charge, although Gigg and Uryll had shared suspicions about this. At first, it had at least not required any complicated tactics to defend Legendra. Even for dragons, they were not being subtle. 

Then all Hell broke loose and the armies of Tradnor understood why the dragons had wanted to close with the enemy so quickly. They also realised why the horde hadn't bothered with the Shrines - there was nothing there that needed capturing any more. The legendary weapons had gone, along with the bulk of Astea's direct influence on the world as She ascended, promising to take a more back-seat role now that the threat from Madruk, which She considered partly her fault, was gone. This disaster wasn't really enough to bring Her back. This was just mortals fighting mortals - Astea had never said she discriminated against Blood Dragons enough to intervene in a straight battle between them and humans. After all, that would get Harsgalt involved, then Leviathan and the divine representatives of the other races, and the world would be shattered by so much divine conflict. A priest could certainly channel as much divine essence as they could hold - that was more to do with their own abilities and their connection to the realm where Astea was - but they couldn't expect divine intervention and greater miracles any more. 

In other words, the Shrines were now just bottleneck locations filled with high-ranking priests and battle monks who would be a pain to try and fight on their own turf. It was best to stick to one, simple objective, which seemed to be to reach Reinhart as quickly as possible and... do this. Whatever this was. 

They must have known about it in advance.

"The amount of divine magic energy in the air over there is painful," said Sierra, gesturing that she had a headache, "You were right to retreat."

"I don't think anyone had any choice, Immortal or no," Uryll pointed out. A lot of people had run to the shrines, where they thought they'd have the most chance of surviving. The Immortals were all pouring into the Tower of Fiends, so many that Vlad was worried they wouldn't all fit. He was not going to turn away refugees - if it came down to it, he'd mobilise his honour guard and set out with anyone who volunteered to join him, to defend this place until the last. Sierra had wanted to join but someone had to stay behind and keep order over a tower full of panicked refugees. 

At the site of the battle itself, which was now engulfing most of Fandaria, everything was chaos. In the centre, a sphere of crimson light hung over the battlefield like a malevolent sun, bathing the grass in intense blood-red light when it was not already stained with the ichor of various species. Flares of energy surged across the sphere, arcs of lightning and plumes of fire, all the same angry red. Sometimes a lightning bolt shot out and struck the earth below it, immolating whatever or whoever happened to be in the way. Directly under the sphere, the ground was a crater from the initial shockwave that had thrown both armies backwards, taking several casualties. Cracks were forming in the ground, threatening to turn into an earthquake as Legendra's magical energy in the very rocks went wild. Elementals were beginning to form where the energy collected and twisted around itself the most. Tradnor's mages fought to take control of them and stop them going on a rampage, just as they had saved the bulk of their army from death. Able to fly and covered in armoured scales, the Dragons had mostly survived anyway.

That, and some of the more perceptive wizards swore that the sphere wasn't targeting the Dragons as much. Now that it was here, the invading horde had encircled it, now fanatically defending it, while a ritual ring of them had begun chanting and dancing around it. The slightly more magically active of them, Presto realised, who acted as shamans, and had now found a source of magical energy that resonated almost entirely with their own. 

It was Tsugal who let him know that the energy was registering as divine.

"It's Reinhart, isn't it?" asked Uryll.

"I don't see the Emperor anywhere else, dear, and he's usually in the thick of trouble."

"So, is he Ascending? Did the Dragons do something to him, or was this going to happen all along, like Gigg said it might? Or is his father doing this to him..."

"He does rather look like a God of War up there."

"But I thought Valhart was opposed to him becoming the next Madruk..."

"A Blood Dragon God doesn't necessarily mean Madruk, dear. The problem with Madruk was that he tried to destroy the world in the wrong way, outside of the cycle of rebirth - not even really that he tried to destroy it. If all he's doing is leading a horde of Blood Dragons to war... well, Valhart's done the same, a long time ago, when there were a lot more Dragons and they all fought each other, all the time," said Sierra. She whistled and looked up at the stars through the archway of the tower's top minaret, "Even I was young then, you know!"

"I thought Astea disapproved of war on this scale."

"She isn't going to be happy about this, and once Reinhart actually ascends, she'll probably have words with him and his father, but at the same time, she's not going to stop this from happening. She's never promised to stop mortals from ever going to war - in any case, that would probably involve completely taking away their free will. And for all we know, Reinhart could be destined to ascend in this manner."

“So, Reinhart is not permitted free will?”

“The lives of the Gods are very strictly restricted by destiny, dear. Its the balancing force to their power. The Gods are there for a reason.”

“And what happens if I defy destiny?” asked Uryll, her dark eyes now glimmering, her small but sharp fangs bared. 

Sierra licked her rouged lips, “I see no divine force stopping you from trying, except maybe Reinhart’s own, if he’s still in a bad mood.”

“Well, I’ll teach him to take it out on others!” she snapped, “This doesn’t just involve him. He has a life as a mortal as well, with people relying on him, people who will genuinely grieve if he just… up and disappears with his new Dragon friends! Not that they seem like good friends,” she added, folding her arms, “Are you sure he’s not being forced to do it?”

“By Dragons… I don’t think they could do it on their own, but their existing here is certainly making an impact on fate,” said Sierra, “You have to remember that this was always inside Reinhart. Valhart was a breed of Blood Dragon before He ascended, too. And if this really is destined to happen, that destiny will work through everything and everyone it can.”

“But it might not be destiny. He might just plain not want this. And there’s a good chance that he’s alone and confused and maybe in pain, up there, with all this suddenly happening. Unless its been happening for a while and the idiot hasn’t even been telling us,” Uryll sighed, “And I’m probably the only one really fit to go after him, aren’t I?”

“Well, you do seem to have a good understanding of what’s going on, and you have the will to do so, if the threat of destiny and the will of the Gods turning against you won’t sway you,” said Sierra, “And everyone else is busy either fighting a horde of dragons or stopping civilisation from falling into anarchy.”

“I’m really not suited to this ‘heroine saving her hero by understanding his heart’ business,” Uryll mused, “Can’t Teiris do it?”

“Teiris is married to Wein, dear, and they’re on the front lines together right now. You should go while they’re all keeping the Dragons relatively busy. And take this with you. Don’t tell Vlad.”

Uryll reached to take the object from her and then recoiled as though it was glowing red hot, “I can’t take that! It mustn’t leave the Tower! What if it falls into enemy hands?”

“This is an emergency,” said Sierra, “And I don’t think Dragons know how to use Immortal magical artifacts. And anyway, I am your Queen and I am now ordering you to take that thing and make sure it stops you or Reinhart dying out there. And preferably bring it back in one piece.”


	5. Chapter 5

Uryll grasped the Dark Orb in both hands and immediately felt the power wash over her like a tidal wave made black by the dead of night, streaked by silver moonlight. Raw magical energy roared and crashed in her ears, its force throwing her off-balance as she tried to fly with it, clenching harder so that she couldn't drop it. The power tingled in her fingertips, shot like adrenaline up all her nerves, filling her with phantom sensations of thick, tangible darkness both hot and cold at the same time, of flitting movements and barely audible chirping as though she were surrounded by bats. She looked down and saw that the energy was visibly running down her arms, tendrils of black lightning. It looked and felt as though she were changing, becoming something more powerful but less human. Her frame grew stronger, her purple hide thickening and darkening, her claws and fangs growing and sharpening. She felt the pressure behind her eyes leaking out in dark rivulets of flame. Every sensation felt more vivid, every movement stronger and faster. 

Her first instinct was to exult in it and keep drawing power until it overflowed, burst out of her. She had been warned by Sierra in advance not to give in to this desire, unless she wanted to spontaneously combust. Her second response was fear, fear that the change was permanent, that she would become something different, something that Reinhart wouldn't like - or worse, something similar to what Reinhart was becoming. She scolded herself for this. For one, this was not exactly 'not her', it was the usual result of imbuing any Immortal with enough dark energy and it was a thing she needed to get used to if she was going to grow into her full power as a Succubus. Secondly, there was nothing wrong with either this form or even with what Reinhart was becoming. Her goal was not to change either of them. Mostly it was to make sure he had some choice, or at least some awareness of what was happening to him. If that didn't work, she at least had to know for certain, so that she could decide what to do for herself.

Either way, this would be best accomplished if she was at least on a power level where she would be noticed. As a standard Immortal, if he was really becoming a deity, the rift between them was too great. The Dark Orb would be enough of a signature in the world to at least attract his attention. It also had the desirable side-effect that she would actually be strong enough to force her way through a blockade of Dragons, then, hopefully, through whatever kind of energy barrier he'd put up around himself. 

It still wasn't something she wanted to do, though. She gulped as a cloud of red flew up to meet her.

Even with the Dragons being distracted by the combined armies of most of Legendra, their first priority was holding their territory, so she'd already been intercepted by several patrol squads. She had her own retinue of Harpies - a much weaker troop but she was trying to get past them, not meet them head on, and Harpies could easily outfly and confuse Harpies while she, also very mobile now that her powers were boosted by the Orb, slipped further in. She could deal with the remaining dragons herself, with the Orb's help. She was as big as a dragon now, with similar strength and toughness, and she was the better magician. She also had the knack for battlefield healing magic, which annoyed the dragons a lot when their fallen enemies suddenly got back up. Healing magic within the priesthood wasn't working as well at the moment compared to the war against Madruk but Astea wasn't the deity she was praying to right now. The Goddess had never been good at channelling energy that actually healed Immortals properly anyway. The combined confusion, mobility and prowess against single individuals got her as far as the red sphere, at least.

Then things got really messy.

* * *

Almost immediately, she realised that she would not have been able to approach the thing at all without the Dark Orb's power. The sheer pressure of the forces raging like several tornadoes, pulling her in all directions at once, crackling with veins of blood-vein lightning, would have crushed her or torn her apart. Even with the extra power, she felt dwarfed by what she could feel all around her. She'd not personally fought Madruk, not being a Dragon Warrior, but she'd gone up against the three Dark Apostles when they were newly awakened. It hadn't been possible for anyone to harm them, only to drive them back to their lair and delay their resurrection of Madruk. The sheer power emanating from the swirling ball of chaos, wild and furiously destructive, was greater than any of the Apostles could have managed. She felt a will behind it, too, something that stalked her, snarling. Something that had surrendered to all the pain and rage and frustration inside it, was now just letting everything go, regardless of consequence.

As she forced her way inside, sometimes managing to avoid the winds and lightning, sometimes having to forge through them and accept that she was becoming increasingly covered in scrapes, bruises and burns, her wings ragged at the edges, her energy field low and her mind as exhausted as her muscles, she found Reinhart. 

She could only just tell it was him, mostly from his eyes and the expression on a face that no longer even looked human. Burning red dragon scales covered his body, forming a crown above a leathery orange face with a tuft of brown hair that somehow still managed to capture his facial features. Now the size of a Blood Dragon, around twice his original size, he was more elegant and long-limbed, less squat, hulking and stocky than the lesser dragons, his wings and long tail fully covering his winding torso. Uryll had seen the image of a Greater Dragon, made of spirit energy, when it had been conjured forth by the power of the Dragon Force. It had flown towards Katmando, the only thing capable of defeating the malevolent machine that served as Madruk's third Apostle. 

However, while the Dragon summoned in the image of Harsgalt had an aura of righteous divinity, maybe a touch of arrogance, as it swept across the battlefield, setting aflame the legions of Madruk, this thing with Reinhart's eyes mostly just looked furious. Despite the heat it emitted, the wrath it channeled was now something more cold and impersonally lethal. It simply wanted to kill until it was satisfied, until there was no more heaviness left in its heart. 

Above the spiked crown of frills on the Dragon Godling's head was a halo of dark crimson fire. As it whirled around, the tempest around Reinhart spun.

The dragon looked straight at Uryll and then roared.

Dodging a particularly large and clearly deliberately thrown lightning bolt, she tucked in her wings and darted straight towards him.


	6. Chapter 6

The question was soon answered whether Reinhart was in control of his transformation. As she tried to reach out and speak to him, she soon realised that he had no real awareness of who he was or what he was doing any more. She called his name and he answered with a feral growl. She tried to drift up closer to him and he swiped at her with claws that crackled with red lightning, before spitting out a few garbled syllables of Draconic, the reverting back to growls. His eyes shone red. When Uryll began channeling the mind-magic of the Dark Orb, the heightened emotional sensing that was the cornerstone of a Succubus tracking her prey, finding a suitable host who would not break as soon as she began draining them, she found herself with a splitting headache. She could only brush against the periphery of the snarled mass of hatred, anger and will to destroy that was powering him. There wasn't even any true malevolence at that stage of wrath - everything was willed to destruction equally and with no other, less innocent purpose than simply because that consciousness inside him wanted things to burn. 

Uryll did not pretend to know the first thing about how to become a God but she for certain this not it. This was less a God of War and more an embodiment of it, a shard of its nature. Where a God would try and govern their domain within the lesser realms, this entity was being governed by it, or simply manifesting more and more of it. She'd seen things like this in her centuries of life as an inherently magical being. She'd summoned such things. This felt exactly the same way as an elemental - a Golem or an Undine or a Salamander - except on a much larger scale. 

This was a Titan being born.

She'd given up trying to approach it, to reason with it. Its defences were perfect - she would have no chance of fighting it. She had no idea how she would go about reversing the ritual that created it, assuming it hadn't been a simple loss of control combined with the collective emotional resonance of several thousand Dragons. However, there was one thing that the Dragon God hadn't even tried to counteract. 

The very thought of using it on someone she was trying to prove that she genuinely loved, made her feel nauseous. However, if it was going to save his life and hers, maybe everyone's...

If it meant she ever had any chance at all later on...

Besides, ethically, what she was doing was more like the way Vlad reversed Ryskim’s spell, surely. And it wasn’t even on another Immortal, which had been the main reason why Ryskim’s use for the Orb was considered such a taboo.

Trying not to remember how Sierra's face had looked when she recalled having such powerful mind magic used upon her, Uryll closed her eyes and threw all of her remaining strength into the Dark Orb.

“Awaken,” she ordered. “Become what you truly are. Calm your soul. Let your body became what it wants to be.”

The answer was a deafening, blood-curdling roar. An instinct to run, as prey before a predator, nearly overwhelmed her. It was mostly her exhaustion and greater fear of breaking a complicated ritual while unprotected from the consequences, of being drained of protective energy while stuck in a divine storm of wrath, that forced her hands to stay affixed to the orb, her muscles to lock in place, her eyes to stay closed.

“I AM ALL, NOW,” roared the voice, dull and flat as a tolling funeral bell, “I AM WHOLE. I AM PERFECT. I AM WAR.”

“Maybe so,” she replied, calmer than she felt, maybe from shock, “But you aren’t Reinhart, and this body, this soul, they belong to a young man called Reinhart. So if you’re not him, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong person.”

“I AM WHAT HE WAS MEANT TO BE.”

“Then why is it going wrong?” she demanded, “Are you sure this is what he asked for? I don’t think he did. Do you know why?”

“ENTERTAIN ME, MORTAL WHO CLAIMS TO KNOW MORE OF THE GODS THAN THEMSELVES.”

“Oh, you aren’t a God. That’s exactly why. You’re what happens when a God surrenders too much of themselves to their domain, aren’t you? When they give up being themselves so that something else can make the decision for them as to who they are. Maybe because they’re even more complicated a God and a person than usual and its too much for one person to work out on their own,” she said, “And Reinhart of Tradnor would never surrender. He’s not even good at pretending to. What’s more, you’ve been talking to me for almost a whole minute, now, and before that you really didn’t want to talk. If it was the real Reinhart, he’d be too stubborn to talk if he didn’t want to.”

The voice sighed, “OR MAYBE I’M JUST TRYING TO WEAR YOU DOWN. PLAY FOR TIME. WHAT’S EVEN HAPPENING TO YOUR BODY RIGHT NOW? MAYBE IT’S ALREADY DEAD.”

“True, but there’s hardly a good alternative, is there? Reinhart, if you want to live as a Blood Dragon God, nobody’s stopping you, but please actually do it, okay? On your own terms. And thinking it through. Without just abandoning everything you used to be as though you don’t have any responsibilities to the continent you practically run on your own, or to your lifelong friends, or to the Immortal woman who loves you enough to come and drag you back to Tradnor by your tail.”

“I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THAT.”

“Well, you won’t. You’re staying here,” she said, amazed at the imperious tone in her voice when talking to an actual primal force of the Universe. Or maybe, it suddenly dawned on her, it was the Dark Orb talking through her. 

She hadn’t looked and felt like herself for a long time.

Just as this was starting to worry her somewhat, a pillar of screaming darkness engulfed her, a sensation hit her not unlike being dragged upwards at high speed, then a large amount of pain, then nothingness.

* * *

She woke up in Reinhart’s study, on the couch where a pile of books had been shoved out of the way rather haphazardly, so that she was still partially supported by them. A soft bubbling noise, then a familiar floral scent told her that Reinhart had made them a pot of his favourite tea. She’d known him to exist on the stuff – whatever strange herbs grew in the mysterious forests of Fandaria that were probably poisonous to everyone except Gods and Immortals – so that he didn’t have to sleep or even take breaks from studying for days on end. In fact, she already felt weirdly refreshed just from the scent. Or she may have been like that for a long time now… She felt free of pain, too. The memories of that battle, the storm and the darkness, were as far away from her now as a dream.

Reinhart himself looked as he always did – a ten year old boy with short, neat brown hair, strangely captivating golden eyes, a wide, honest face with an innocent smile. He wore his ermine-lined red imperial robe suspended around him by a levitating torc of enchanted gold, over a much plainer red scholar’s robe, red boots and green sash. He’d taken off the red and white mitre that he wore to mark him as a powerful mage – pretty much synonymous with a ruler in Tradnor society. He always complained that, despite several enchantments, the bloody thing was too tall to fit through the study door when it was on his head.

“I see you’re back to normal,” she commented, unsure what else to say. She took her tea, then blew on the cup’s rim to cool it.

“As are you,” he noted, “In this place, at least.”

“Oh,” she frowned and looked down at her feet, “This is a dream, isn’t it? I was wondering why I couldn’t see the words on the page of that book over there.”

“That’s actually an arcane copyright protection system I’ve been working on. But yes, this is a dream. Or rather, an illusory world I constructed for us so that we could rest while certain things happen in the physical world.”

“Things? That sounds ominous.”

“You ordered my body to decide what it was. For a God who is in flux, who has a lot of conflicting natures, that’s no simple process. Even though I’m going to change my appearance when required anyway,” he said, “And you appear to be going through the same thing.”

“It’s the Dark Orb, isn’t it?” Uryll frowned, “Did… did I use it too much, then?”

“It isn’t some kind of trap, Uryll, that’s how an artifact that powerful is supposed to be used. You don’t just borrow it like a library book – it becomes entrusted to you. The duty of using it becomes a part of you, and with it, certain… changes come about. Permanent exchanges of power with the artifact, necessary for both of you to perform your functions. If Ryskim had understood that, he might not have failed so miserably – but then, he wouldn’t have been allowed to use it so irresponsibly if he’d made a proper pact with it. It has a mind of its own, you know,” he smiled, “And, no, it doesn’t think you used it unethically. That’s why it responded to you and not to him.”

“And Sierra…?”

“Sierra and Vlad were both offered the contract. They both rejected the offer. Your burning need and the amount of power you required may have been misinterpreted somewhat as accepting the contract.”

“W… well, if it was necessary to get the job done, I suppose I would have agreed to that in an instant,” she admitted, suddenly blushing. He had been aware of the whole thing, she realised. Had he heard her say…?

“If you’re wondering, yes, Sierra and I have been privately discussing you. I apologise for the rudeness but I believe I am not the only person with such secrets,” his eyes glinted with mischief, causing her to blush an even more furious shade of damson purple, “I required advice on… other matters, you see, concerning certain relations with a certain Immortal. Relations that I am, alas, as abysmal at dealing with as an ordinary young boy.”

“More like a book-obsessed shut-in,” she sighed, “Seriously, though, I’m more upset at Sierra now. Who else is in on this? If the answer is Gigg...”

Suddenly, he was right in front of her. He’d teleported very precisely so that he could embrace her, carefully avoiding smacking her head on the robe’s levitation torc, and place a finger to her lips, the smile on his face still rather impish. She reflexively bared her fangs at him.

“No need to bite. I merely wished to reassure you that this is between myself, yourself and the woman who is closest to a family to either of us. Well, except for a few much younger siblings who can hardly be expected to act as authorities on the matter.”

“What about Vlad? Valhart?”

“Vlad is still busy mopping up after the dragons. My beloved father could not care less about my private life and he is an even worse role model than he is a father figure. I’m surprised he had me at all, to be honest.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds sad,” she frowned, “I don’t really know my parents either. It’s not a very strong bond in general, with Immortals. You really don’t mind that I’m a Succubus? That I might not be trustworthy?”

“I’m a God of War and I manage to infuriate you into violence just by virtue of my personality, don’t I?”

Uryll thought about this for a while but was still unsure if it made any sense. She decided to respond with, “So, are you going to become a Blood Dragon or not?”

“Maybe for you, if you’d like me to,” he winked. 

“That looks wrong in that body, Astea damn you!” she growled, gnashing her fangs at him. He burst into laughter, “No, I’m being serious! At least decide upon a damn adult body for yourself!”

* * *

The Tradnor Empire during the Reconstruction Era – a summary (In accordance with the mandates of Royal Historian Tsugal):

While regions of Legendra are once again largely self-governed, the peace is still kept between provinces by the Tradnor Empire, who demand a small tithe in compensation for their international duties and their extensive research into the design of magitechnological breakthroughs, as well as an offering to their God-Emperor Reinhart. The latter is rather more understandable when you consider that the (still relatively new to the position) Dragon God can literally be contacted and his divinity demonstrated, that he personally oversees all spiritual matters and supplies divine energy to the Church for the nation’s public health system. 

“I’ll be a less interventionist deity,” he has previously promised, “When I have anybody I can actually trust enough to delegate to. But if you must go against my very precise instructions all the time...” (The rest of this paragraph was censored due to extensive profanity.)

The second – equal in rank and in the respect afforded to her by Imperial citizens – is the Dark Queen Uryll – as the confirmed inheritor of the full power of the Dark Orb is known to the Immortal tribe she hails from. The God-Empress has been happily married to her consort for a full half-century now, which, according to her, is, as quoted exactly: “About the equivalent of, um, three months to you mortals? So why are you all making such a big deal of it?”

More mundane affairs are still carried out by our esteemed Archmage Sophie and her Council, with military affairs controlled by Generals Gigg and Santana. May Reinhart and Uryll bless us all with a prosperous future.


End file.
